Elliptical Paradigms
“There’s a new rebirth,” they say
Whilst my mother, a teacher of History
And Politics at the PCC, flushes her toilet with a
Bucket, waiting for some miracle to find
pipes and a tank for her water supply.
“There’s still some hope,” she ponders on
As she washes the dishes in a bowl and
watches Díaz-Canel occupy the highest seat
at the National Assembly. For the first time
in her life, a speech on the country’s fate
By a non-Castro figurine, makes her
Trust again. Or not. I can’t tell. She’s scared to tell.
Coded messages and emails, ‘Tú sabes…’,
‘Te escribo de la escuela…’ Always non-spaced
Dots connoting the suppression of our people.
On April 19th she wrote, yet no allusion to the
Elections from that day. I read it on the Internet.
From her, ‘I’m running out of painkillers and Omega 3,’
‘We can’t find the antihistamine your brother needs.’
(Where’s the ‘world medical power’? I think)
She’s careful not to mention political events
To her daughter abroad. My replies are always
Tethered to my dissident thoughts. As I write this,
I imagine her crafting a new note on her
Ministerio de Educación account, sipping a glass
Of water to mitigate the heat. That water — the same
I drank for over two decades — was mixed with the
Shit running in the soil. It reminds me of the turbid
Impasse my fellow Cuban citizens live on, dreaming of
McDonald’s and a 90-mile journey to the North.
I could escape, but my family’s still there / in silence /
I can read
their thoughts:
Fresh yet putative looks of a stalwart supporter of the Communist Party — The new President’s “passing resemblance to American actor Richard Gere,” and “penchant for wearing jeans has set him apart in Havana’s corridors of power.”
Is this what the future holds?
